Child of Darkness, Son of Ice
by Simone of the Zordiak
Summary: He was dreaming of ice again. Whirling snowflakes dancing in an eternal storm, glistering sheets of thick frozen ice covering the wall in front of him.
1. Dreams Of Ice

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

Authors Note: This is a Crossover Fic. I watched a movie and my over-reactive bunnies tossed me a 'what if' scenario and, of course, my brain wouldn't shut up until I started to put this down. I have no idea where it will lead to, we will see.

Child of Darkness, Son of Ice 

Simone of the Zordiak

_He was dreaming of ice again. Whirling snowflakes dancing in an eternal storm, glistering sheets of thick frozen ice covering the wall in front of him. He was so cold, but he knew that even the hottest fire would not warm him. For it was he, who caused the ice to appear. The coldness was born from his arctic-cold body and would imprison him forever. Banished, cursed and so alone._

_In the middle of the courtyard he stood, screaming his impotent fury at the uncaring moon..._

Still screaming he woke up and drew a much needed breath. The air he breathed out made clouds of condensation appear in front of him and he shuddered. Despite it being a quite warm Californian summer-night, his bed sheets were frozen over and small ice-crystals were covering the surfaces of the room. Xander sighed. Maybe it was better to tell Giles, but something, some strange kind of instinct, was keeping him from doing it.

He opened a window, allowing in the warm summer air, to get rid of the chill and to taw away the ice. Wordlessly he watched the small bits of ice dissolve into fluid and then laid out his duvet to dry away the water. This had happened so often in the last weeks that he had developed a routine to deal with it.

-o-o-o-

The first dream he had the night after his best friend had dissolved into vampire dust. After he had used a stake to kill him. At first he had believed the dreams to be his minds way of working through the things he had seen that night and the following ones. But the dreams came more and more often, with details his brain could not invent. And then the ice appeared. It was covering him, his bed and his sheets and somehow he knew that he had produced it. Somehow his body had cooled down the air in his room during his dreams, had cooled it down so much that ice flowers grew at his windows and mirror, that thin sheets of ice started to cover the surfaces of his room.

It was then, that Xander started to seriously research what could have happened to him, or why it was happening to him, but so far he had not found even the slightest hint of a possibility to explain his situation.

He found lists of demons, who could control the weather or one of the elements, but nothing in their descriptions or habitats was fitting. He found stories of witches, so powerful that fire and ice were theirs to control, but that was done with lots of spells and practice. There was nothing to explain his predicament.

-o-o-o-

The warm summer air had made short process with the frozen air of his room and he closed the window again. Then he grabbed for a leatherbound journal he had stashed halfway under his bed, sat down at his desk and started to write down everything he could remember about the dream. This was a habit he had gotten used to rather quickly, it helped him to sort through his mind and he still hoped that he would find the answers to his questions in the hints dropped by his dreams.

He carefully leafed through the already written on sites. Certain elements of his dreams always stayed the same, but the dreams themselves varied. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes there were people. Strange people. Very strange and most certainly nonhuman people.

His eyes came to a stop at a symbol he had seen several times in his dreams, a symbol he had drawn so many times in his schoolbooks and on worksheets, that even the teachers were starting to recognise it as his. Every time he drew or saw the symbol he felt a strange mixture of longing and anger and he had no idea why.

Xander sighed and closed his journal. The dream had woken him rather early and so he had time to prepare for school at his leisure. He showered, long and as warm as he could, to drive away the last of his chill. Afterwards he dug around in the clutter for his hairbrush and started the process of detangeling his hair. For some strange reason he had decided to grow out his hair, a fact he cursed every morning when his brush found just another knot and yet he did not even thought about getting it cut. He fished a simple hairband out of a small bin and tied his hair in a ponytail.

After he was done with this part of his morning ritual, he dressed and anybody who had known Xander for a while would be able to pick out the changes that he had went through since the dreams had started. He no longer wore bright, clashing colours, but settled for simple, dark and muted colours, mostly brown, darkblue and black.

He packed his schoolbooks for the day, all his homework was done and he knew it was correct. That had been the easiest of the changes that he had noticed since the beginnings of the dreams, the need to compete, even if it was only with Willow and only about the state of their homework. Somewhere inside of him there was this burning need to be the best at something and he saw no harm in competing with his best friend, his grades were thanking him for it.

One last time he looked into the mirror. It showed him a tall (he had stopped slouching), dark man, with a serious look on his face and a few rebellious strands of hair framing said face. He looked mature, no longer like a teenager, but more like someone one could trust with responsibility of his own. And there was something else. Since the first dream, since the night he had to kill his best friend, the laughter had slowly, but steadily faded from his eyes. He had paid it no heed, had not really noticed it, but there were others who were dreading the day when the laughter finally died completely inside of him. In his eyes, as well as his heart. For Xander carried a secret, something he didn't even know himself, but many hoped that the day would never come, when it would be unleashed on the world again.


	2. Consequences Of The Hyena Incident

**Child of Darkness, Son of Ice**

Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Two

_The beast was parching back and forth behind the barrier that divided them from each other. She was the only one, the other inhabitants of the hyena house were dozing, but she, she was angry, furious. Her spirit wanted to break free, wanted to take him over. _

_A small hidden part of him could feel her anger, her need for freedom, for the hunt. But while this part of him could feel and understand her, he could not allow her to take his body. This was HIS body and he was the only one allowed in here. He stood there, refusing her entrance to his body and mind. Finally she lowered her head and backed away. He blinked and then shook his head, not really knowing what just had happened here... _

The so-called Hyena-incident ended with several dead, six attempted and two finished rapes. It was a disaster of the highest magnitude. And for the possessed ones it was a nightmare that would never end. The four possessed teens could not be separated from the hyena-spirits. They would stay, heavily sedated and watched, in different mental hospitals for the rest of their lives. Human in form, but hyena in mind. Giles had theorised that, had the possession been discovered sooner, the teens might have been saved. But unfortunately the bullying behaviour of the four and the hyena-pack mentality had been so close to each other that no one had noticed something. He also mentioned that it seemed rather odd that the entire pack had possessed the students, except for the alpha-beast. None of the students had been possessed by the pack-matriarch, which went against the writings of the tribal shamans and other witnesses of such possessing ceremonies. Normally the alpha would choose a victim first and have her pack follow her, but this time she stayed behind. Giles theorised that the zookeeper might have bound her to her body before he left the prepared circle, to prevent the matriarch from choosing any host beside himself, but that he had been rejected by her. Xander smiled thinly. He should have been the pack-leader, but he was stronger than any animal spirit, he had defeated her in a battle of wills.

And yet he never said a word of it to Giles. There was a part of him that didn't trust the Watcher, or better, Giles' higher ups, with that information. He wanted to live a normal life and he knew that that would be next to impossible if the Watchers were after him, to find out how he stopped an alpha-hyena from taking him as her host.

Xander sighed as he thought about the changes this incident had wrought: Principal Flutie, dead, partly eaten, Vice-Principal Snyder, badly mauled, had lost his right arm in an attack. Harmony, one of Cordelia's little sheep, brutally raped. The list went on. If not for him and, quite surprisingly, Marcie Ross, it would have been even worse. Marcie had been attacked by one of the pack, but she had been able to beat her would-be rapist over the head with a baseball bat. He had found her, at the verge of freaking out, as she stood over the unconscious body of her attacker and had managed to calm her down enough to make her tell him what had happened. She had cried into his shirt when the adrenaline wore off and she realised how close she had come to share the fate of Harmony. He had soothed her, called the police for her and helped her through the hours of panic that had followed. Together they had started to patrol the school, searching for the rest of the little gang. She, armed with her baseball bat and he, with a wooden kendo sword he had found in a pawn shop some time before. They had found two more of the quartet, once more attacking and eating a human and they had managed to bring them down before they had the chance to kill Snyder, who had lost his arm, would have some interesting scars for the rest of his life and who was insanely grateful towards the duo. The last of the four was brought down by Buffy. Kyle had tired to put the moves on her, but she had put him down in her unique way, with a desk to his head.

The entire school knew about the incidents and practically over night their life's changed. Marcie was no longer the overlooked wallflower. Girls of all ages flocked to her, wanting to be like her, looked up to her as their personal hero.

And he? Well, his image had started to change a little while before, when he had given up his hideous shirts for something more suitable and had stopped to make jokes about everything. This 'incident' had only hastened the process. They no longer looked at him and saw the class clown, but someone darker and more mature. Someone who had no qualms to fight for his believes and someone who had rapidly developing leader qualities.

Xander laid on his bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking. The incident had proved that neither he, nor his friends or even Buffy could be everywhere at the same time. As long as the vampires and other assorted demons of the hellmouth had the superiority of numbers, his friends and he would never win, only be able to fight them to a standstill. That was unacceptable. They needed... needed... an army.

A cold smile spread over Xanders face. They needed an army.

And he had a good idea where he could get one.


	3. Musings about a Prophecy

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

Authors Note: This is a Crossover Fic. I watched a movie and my over-reactive bunnies tossed me a 'what if' scenario and, of course, my brain wouldn't shut up until I started to put this down. I have no idea where it will lead to, we will see. **Child of Darkness, Son of Ice**

Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Three

_A prophecy... he hated prophecies, hated them with all he had. They were more often than not riddles, that could only be properly deciphered and explained after the event they described had already happened. Also they always used metaphors. So what if the prophecy said that Buffy would die tonight? Everyone who had ever used a Tarot-deck knew that the Deathcard never meant death in the truest sense of the word, but the ending of a situation. And every end meant also a new beginning. But nooo, they all had to translate it in the most simple form, even Giles. So now it was his duty to make sure that the apocalypse didn't happen tonight. He needed this world intact, he still had plans for it... _

He had put things in movement, important things, necessary ones. Given time his small group of self-defence students would swell, would become the army he'd already invisioned. But things like this took time and time was the only thing he did not have right at the moment. So he had been forced to use untrustworthy allies. One in particular.

It was hard not to grind his teeth down to stumps, something about Angel always irritated him. No, it was not the fact that Buffy was mooning for him like a love-stuck calf. Sometime, somehow his crush for her had grown cold and died a pitiful death. Not even the fact that he was a vampire could really faze him. No, it was something else. And he had no idea what it was. But it was there and sometimes he had to rein himself pretty tightly so that he wouldn't let go and rip of the cowards head in one single swoop.

But now was not the right time to think about this, he would have time for philosophy later, after he had put the destiny of the world back on the right track, his track.

o-o-o

Angel was a bad liar. No breath, indeed. While, as a vampire he didn't need to breath to life, he was still routinely breathing to be able to speak. In fact, since he didn't use any of the oxygen in the air he was breathing, he would have been the better choice to give mouth-to-mouth to Buffy. No, Angel was simply ignorant of the technique. And, instead of simply admitting this, he thought up this ridiculous lie. Xander snorted. How stupid did the vampire think he was?

o-o-o

It was over. Prophecy averted, hellmouth closed again, after-apocalypse-party survived. Buffy was gone for a few weeks, to visit her father and he was going to work at his own plans.

The dreams were coming more frequently, more and more detailed, and he knew that he only had a finite amount of time before he had to act. He had to secure his place, his position with the other Scoobies, so that they wouldn't try to hunt him down when they found out about him. Also he had to find another place to live, since his icy dreams were getting harder and harder to hide, even from his parents. And when two alcoholics started to notice that there was something strange happening in their son's room, it was time to do something about it. Since he knew that the dreams and the side-effects wouldn't stop, but instead would be getting stronger and stronger, he had to move out of the house or had to do something about his parents. But right now he had no desire to handle them personally, they were drunks, yes, but they were his parents. Some type of filial loyalty maybe? He had no idea, but right now he was looking for another place to live.

Which was both easier and harder than he had thought it to be. Easier, since in Sunnydale, there were always empty houses and apartments and harder, because the reason for those empty houses were the fact that vamps and demons used them as an easy feeding ground.

Maybe he should take a group of his better students and clear out some of the more obvious nests.

He sighed. Organising such a hunt would take some skill and time, since he would have to talk some of the more hot-headed members of the group out of proving themselves. He had no desire to baby-sit a brunch of too full of themselves teens. Maybe he should use it as a test... hmm, that idea had potential.

He would think about it.


	4. The thin Veils of All Hallows Eve

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

Authors Note: This is a Crossover Fic. I watched a movie and my over-reactive bunnies tossed me a 'what if' scenario and, of course, my brain wouldn't shut up until I started to put this down. I have no idea where it will lead to, we will see.

**Child of Darkness, Son of Ice**

Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Four

_Halloween, All Hallow's Eve, Samhain, the night when the veil between the living and the dead was the thinnest. The night when, if Giles' books were correct, the vampires and other assorted demons stayed in and yet he wasn't as sure as the watcher that nothing was going to happen. Just because the vampires and demons stayed in, the hellmouth wasn't safe. This night was perfect for dark magic rituals and he had been planning counter measures for several weeks. And yet, he had the feeling that this night would be the perfect time for a first field test for his supernatural self-defence club... _

It was pretty easy to get Snyder's permission to take over the duty of the volunteer safety program for Halloween, the man was still not 100 percent recovered from the hyena scare and he was pathetically grateful to have this matter taken out of his hands.

He had talked to his 'self-defence' group, had explained his motives for volunteering them for this duty and since most of them had had their brushes with the darker supernatural side of their hometown, it was quite easy to win them.

This morning, when he'd walked past a newly opening costume shop, he had a feeling, just a little something, that costumes would play a certain role tonight. So they would go to that shop to rent their costumes after a plan he had cooked up.

o-o-o

"Amy ? Good to see you. I think I have the perfect costume choice for you."

"My ears keep falling off! Where is the stupid mastix?"

"I can't find my wig! Anybody here seen a long blonde mop lying around?"

" Hey Andrew! How got is your Sindarin? I need you to write something."

"That's my cloak! You can't take it, I need it, give it back!"

"Nooo no no, Jonathan, you can't go as Darth Vader, I told you, only costumes with positive feedback. No villains, anti-heroes or otherwise shady characters! Understood?"

"The shoes don't fit! Arrrrgggg, they are half a size too small! Which idiot is responsible for this?"

"Wait, wait, wait! Marcy, I have something for you."

Voices were shouting chaotically through the dressing room. And yet Xander was somehow able to keep everything organised. Calm and collected, already in costume, black and strict, he was a striking figure.

Somehow he had managed to organise the costumes for his group and even though there were some problems with some of the more geeky members, who still thought that they simply had to be a Sith Lord, a dark God or something similarly dark and evil.

After some shouting, mild threats and middle-ranged glares, everyone was finally dressed up and ready to go.

Xander grabbed the black coat that completed his costume, the only costume not bought or accented with items of Ethan's store.

It was ShowTime.

o-o-o

He had been right.

The costume shop was the centre of the nightly chaos and the costumes were the key for the individual transformations. Countless little demons and monster were rampaging through the streets, but the transformed members of his self-defence club had clear directions to contain them without bloodshed. Each and every member had written a letter to him- or herself, addressed to their costume persona. And in every letter was written one sentence: Trust Alexander. This was allowing him to organise the counterattack, to keep the enchanted children from the ones who hadn't bought their costumes in Ethan's shop and the few real demons that had come out to add their own brand of chaos to the night.

Xander stood aside, watching as the members of his little self-defence club were delivering the kids back to their waiting parents. He was halfway hidden behind several shelves and shadows. Right now he had no patience for wild babbeling children or their thankful parents. He had some things to think about. Things had happened tonight. Unexpected things. Things he had neither planned nor expected, though looking back he should have.

Jonathan, after Xander had vetoed his Darth Vader costume (and boy was Xander happy that he had forbidden villainous costumes), had dressed up as Merlin and before Janus' bust had been shattered, he had done one spell to merge the special gifts of the costume persona with the person wearing the costume.

That would take some time for the others to adjust to, and for him to factor in his plans. Yes, they were in a very advantageous situation, but also in one with many unknown variables.

He waved, then turned around and walked away. Tomorrow was another day and right now he felt like he needed his rest.

o-o-o

It was midnight, Xander did not know how he knew that it was midnight, but he did knew it. Midnight, Halloween on top of the hellmouth and right now, the veil between the realms of Earth and the Otherworld was the thinnest. Hallow's Eve on top of the Gateway to Hell and it was not over. Not really. Something was still waiting to happen. He knew it, he could feel it, but he ha no idea, what it could be.

Somewhere, far away he hear a Church bell ring the hours. One, two, three... he counted silently. When the twelfth bell toll dimmed away, it happened.

He screamed as the memories flooded his brain. Memories of his life and death, his bargain, second life and second death... yet again at the hands of the same man.

Louder and louder he screamed, as everything that had been his once before was returned to him. He had fulfilled his primary purpose and this was his reward.

On the wall opposite of him, a large mirror appeared. This time, unlike the last, he could see himself in it, for he was not dead. Not like the last time. But still the mirror called to him. He knew what was behind it. Knew it and hated it.

But there was no way around it and that he knew as well, had known it unconsciously since the first time he had woken from dreamy of icy death and loneliness.

With a sigh he stepped towards the mirror and, after one last look, stepped through it.

Behind him the mirror assumed room-temperature and dulled. Coloured lines appeared on its surface, until it no longer looked like a mirror, but an old map. A map of a land, that politically no longer existed.

o-o-o

He settled down, watching the ice close over him.

Tomorrow, he though, before he fell asleep, tomorrow was another day.

tbc


	5. Memories like Ice Shards cut

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to other people, but I can still dream, can I?

Authors Note: This is a Crossover Fic. I watched a movie and my over-reactive bunnies tossed me a 'what if' scenario and, of course, my brain wouldn't shut up until I started to put this down. I have no idea where it will lead to, we will see.

Addendum: It has been quite some time since I last updated, but my fickle muse decided to abandon me. Sorry. Hopefully it won't take as long until the next update...

**Child of Darkness, Son of Ice**

Simone of the Zordiak

Chapter Five

_Dreams, flashes, fragments of other, former lives. A beautiful face, smiling at him, the sun, burning down on a battlefield, a feast, celebrating their victory, despair, disbelief, the cold feel of steel as the sword entered his back, RAGE, rebirth without emotions to guide him, endless centuries of Not-life, living in emptiness and the freezing cold. And then, him! His murderer once, he came to murder him again. A battle and the feeling of fear and despair, as he died once more. Standing in front of the one he owed his alliance to, listening to his new mission, that had already been decided for him... _

His eyes snapped open and the sheet of ice covering him shattered, as he rose from his resting place. He shook his head, dislodging tiny splinters and the last mists of sleep. His dreams had been unexpected, but helpful. Now he had an idea where to start his new mission and thanks to last nights events, he would even have someone who would be able to help him. But there was something he had to do before he could start his plans.

His memories had been returned to him, memories of forty years of life in the 15th century and memories of 426 years of life as an undead monster. Both lifes had left their marks on him. There were changes in his mannerism and behaviour that he could not and would not suppress and the knowledge he'd amassed during his last lifes was going to be pretty useful. Well, if he could find a way to tell his friends that he had this knowledge.

But then, how long would he be able to hide the truth from Willow and Buffy, how long before Giles noticed something suspicious? No, it would be better if he could control the time and place of his confession, but that did not made it any easier. There was no easy way to explain what kind of monster he'd been in his last life... or better yet, unlife. Without mercy and remorse, without any emotions to hold him back, he'd done things that made him feel sick to his stomach. And wasn't it ironic, that he'd become a kind of monster hunter again? It hadn't gone so well the last time, ending with his betrayal and murder at the hands of his best friend...

_Briefly he wondered where Gabriel could be now, before resolutely shoving those thoughts into the deepest depths of his mind. _

Absent-mindedly he walked through the main hall of his former home, his former prison. A thick sheet of dust was covering everything, dust and dried ichor. It pained him to look at it, for it was all that remained from his doomed children. He knew that it had been wrong, all his attempts to bring them to life destined to fail and yet they had been his children and he'd been as desperate as an emotionless being could be.

He remembered those short fleeting moments when they had shed their egg-sacks, flying around everywhere and Verona, dear dead Verona, had been so happy... of course it couldn't last. In the end, he had lost everything, his brides, his children and finally, his own life.

The icy mirror portal seemed to appear out of nowhere, but he soon was to realize that his feet had guided him here while he was remembering. Without even noticing he dipped into a dark part of his being, only to find it empty. His look of utter surprise was reflected perfectly in the mirror before him and once again he had to remind himself that he was human now.

All that remained of his former existence were his memories and the curse his father had cast upon him, the ice and the castle, which would follow him wherever he went. Those dreams of snow and loneliness, that had haunted his sleep for the last months, they had been memories of his former life slowly bubbling to the surface.

Those memories could cause him a lot of problems, for he had no idea how many little habits of his were still slumbering deep inside his subconsciousness. He would have to deal with it, but later.

Tentatively he touched the icy surface, feeling honest relief when his hand passed through to the other side. Since he was no vampire in this life, the mirror was allowing him passage in both directions. Should he become a vampire once more, it would become a portal without return again, but he would rather kill himself than becoming such a creature once more.

He frowned and banished that thought. Thinking about things like that was simply too morbid for him right now. There were other, more important things to worry about. Like the fact that he was going to meet the others in the library soon and he had no idea how he should tell them the truth without either being called a delusional liar or a monster...

It appeared that he would have to improvise. Hopefully Buffy would bee able to keep her more impulsive tendencies under control or this meeting could become very uncomfortable for him.

tbc


End file.
